


Terrible Things

by FishPrincess



Series: HSWC 2014 Bonus Round 5 [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Manipulation, Marianna Page
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 17:34:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2859200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FishPrincess/pseuds/FishPrincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Terrible things<br/>happen to<br/>good people<br/>every day.</p><p>Consequently<br/>I am not<br/>one of the<br/>good people.</p><p>I am one of the<br/>terrible things."<br/>- Marianna Paige </p><p>For HSWC Bonus Round 5. A response to a prompt by Dreamwidth user morriganfearn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terrible Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MorriganFearn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorriganFearn/gifts).



She has been jumping back and forth throughout the course of time for as long as she can remember, the weight of every assignment dragging her down further and further. This is not by choice, but life is not a choice. It never was. Her entire existence is propelled and built for moments like this. The rage and bitterness that wells inside of her keeps her moving on, and it’s just enough for him to send her on her way.

And so it is here she approaches a group of highbloods with a piece of parchment that she did not write nor read. A hood cloaks her horns and eyes, her blood color hidden. She knows that her blood color is something to be hidden when directly communicating with other trolls. The Handmaid rarely speaks, and when she does, it consists of only fragmented phrases that she has heard others speak to her. Without an education or lessons in speech, she is not equipped for mingling with her kind.

But she is more than equipped to destroy them.

And it is with this confidence that she brings the piece of parchment to one of them, sliding the paper into a blue-blood’s thick and calloused hands. He scowls and looks down, and when he looks up, she is gone. This parchment, she knows, contains all the information that he needs and seeks. She watches from a high place as he speaks with the other highbloods around him, exchanging a conversation that sends everyone in a nearby radius moving.

They now have their targets, and she follows behind them as they begin their trek, speeding up the process so she is able to watch for herself with no wait. She watches as they take them one by one and stuff them in cages. Damara disregards these imprisonments as such. Her sentence, she believes, is much worse. Nothing that these trolls experience or go through will ever amount to the bite of her existence. She has no sympathy, only anger.

The highbloods split the four up immediately, but Damara is drawn to the woman with the long hair who weeps loudly as she is taken to the execution site. Her long hair sticks to her wet and olive cheeks, and Damara blames it on her inability to understand the necessity of her actions. It is her own fault. The Disciple is stupid and naïve and has experienced the illusion of happiness when she has not even had a taste for herself.

For a brief moment, a brief second, the olive blood’s tired eyes look to meet the gaze of the hooded Handmaid. In the Disciple’s glance is one of sadness, but Damara can tell this expression is meant for only her. Although she is unable to recognize what it means, other trolls would see it as a non-romantic pity, a wish upon another for a better circumstance to cross their path. To understand, Damara would need to make sense of hope, which she is unable to do. There is no hope for her, only a detonated path to her final death.

The Disciple blinks, and in the moment that she opens her eyes again, The Handmaid has disappeared.

Her job is done.


End file.
